Retrograde
by complacentCatalyst
Summary: Mike and Sam get Josh out of the mines. At a cost. (memory loss, gore)
1. ONE

Silence had filled the room hours ago, broken only by the nurse who would occasionally come to check on the unconscious patient. Even Sam, who had been told to rest, refused to stay in her own room. Her eyes were heavy-lidded as she watched the heart rate monitor beep above the hospital bed.

Chris couldn't distract himself with his phone - he had called his parents after the cops finished interrogating everyone. Since then he only glanced at it to check the time. In the chair next to him sat Ashley. They held hands for a while at first, but it felt forced and they both eventually let go. Mike had Jessica sitting in his lap in the third chair, their wounds cleaned and bandaged. Matt, Emily, and Sam were perched on the windowsill. And Josh…

By some miracle, Mike and Sam had successfully gotten him out of the mines. They said he was delirious when they found him and had to wrestle to get him over some ledges. Shortly after the lodge caught fire, he fell unconscious. Ever since then he was kept stable. Chris wasn't the praying type, but he might consider it if Josh didn't wake soon. Even if the conversations the group would have terrified him, underneath it all Josh was still his best friend. He couldn't lose him. It almost happened twice in one night. He was tired of the fear. So when he heard a grunt from Josh's hospital bed, he leaped out of his seat and gripped the side railing.

Josh lifted a hand to his head and dropped it when he touched the bandage that had been wrapped around it. "What…?" he muttered, voice slightly hoarse. The others all sat up straighter.

"Hey, man. You're in the hospital. Hit your head when you… when you fell," Chris explained reluctantly. It might have been the wendigo's intention to kill him when it dropped him so deep into the mines. Josh furrowed his brows.

"I fell?" he inquired.

"It was a pretty nasty injury. I guess it's normal for your memory to be fuzzy."

"Was I _that_ out of it?"

Chris chuckled and it was flat, humorless. The night before wasn't exactly something to joke about. He drew in a deep breath and nodded, tapping a finger on the bed railing. "Yeah," he replied, "you were, uh… you were pretty out of it." The others shifted uncomfortably.

Josh tried to sit up, then seemed to think better of it. "Embarrassing." he grumbled. Green eyes scanned over the room, darkened with perplexity. "You guys look like shit. What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Mike interjected. He was obviously a bit irked.

A shake of the head indicated no. Josh didn't remember. He looked around at all his friends' faces again as if searching for something. No one knew what to say; most of their relationships had become strained. They shouldn't leave him clueless like this though. Chris was about to remind Josh of what happened, when the older male asked another question.

"Where are Hannah and Beth?"

Jessica and Mike exchanged a look. Matt pursed his lips, Emily stared in disbelief, Ashley covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. Chris was too taken aback to respond. Thankfully Sam provided an answer after a moment's hesitation. "Josh… they're gone," she said. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Chris could hardly stand to watch. It was a repeat of last year, only this time he was seeing it with clear vision and a sound mind. Josh's eyes widened and he sat bolt upright with no regard for his own killer headache. He didn't want to believe it, but the solemn expressions on his friends' faces confirmed that his sisters were not coming back. To make it worse, he turned his horrified, desperate gaze towards Chris. Chris had to inhale deeply so his voice wouldn't waver. _This_ was different from last year. This time he had been awake for everything.

"They're dead. There was nothing we could do. You… You saw Hannah, bro. She was- we couldn't help her." Looking down at his hands, he gripped the railing tighter and sniffled. He didn't want to lose his composure. Not in front of everyone else.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" demanded Josh. He gripped the thin bedsheets in his fists.

Ashley stood up and headed for the door. "I'm sorry, I can't. I can't do this. I'll get the doctor," she announced while leaving, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. Yet another moment of silence followed. Forgetting the previous night was one thing - the doctor had warned them that memory loss could be a side effect of head trauma - but if Josh couldn't recall his sisters' "disappearance" from a whole year ago… That couldn't be normal. The beeping of the heart rate monitor fluctuated.

"No. That's impossible. We were drinking and talking. Beth and Hannah were right there with us, in the great room. What do you mean they're _dead?_ What happened? For fuck's sake, someone just tell me!"

"Josh, that was-" Sam began, but was interrupted by the arrival of a doctor and a nurse. It was perfect timing on their part: Josh was reaching for the IVs in his arm like he was going to pull them out. Since he was starting to act hysterical, the group of friends were ushered out of the room. Ashley was standing outside the door. Her eyes still glistened with tears.

Chris slumped against the wall, leaning his head back. He took off his glasses and dragged a hand down his face. "What the hell," he breathed. This couldn't be happening. After encountering wendigos he believed their lives couldn't possibly get any worse. Apparently the universe wasn't done screwing with them yet. How were they supposed to deal with this? Tell Josh about last year's prank and let him go through emotional turmoil again? What if his anger rekindled? What if he did something dangerous again?

Emily clicked her tongue, snapping him out of contemplation.

"Okay. You all know I hate to be the bearer of bad news. But I don't buy it," she stated. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she eyed the door to Josh's room. "What if it's another game? He's still off his meds, right? I think he's still trying to guilt trip us. It's too convenient that he'd forget the whole year, like, down to the exact day."

She had a point. Chris hated that. The pain in Josh's eyes had looked so real, but if he was capable of faking smiles, even of faking his own death, then they couldn't deny the possibility. Chris put his glasses back on. "Let's see what the doctor says," he sighed.

* * *

Doctor Velasquez was the first one to give him clear information. She didn't know all the details but she explained what she could. The lodge caught fire. Perhaps exploded, according to his friends. He was a suspect - there were hints in all their stories that he had a breakdown and tried to hurt them. Firefighters were still trying to put out flames at both the lodge and the sanatorium. His parents were on their way to see him. It was too much to process at once and the new IVs made focusing difficult. Maybe he _did_ have a breakdown, but how could he forget Hannah and Beth being in trouble?

"I'm sorry, Joshua. Your sisters have been dead for a year," Velasquez told him.

"What's today's date?" he asked.

"February third. Five o'clock in the evening."

"Then yesterday was the second. The party. They were _there,_ " he persisted. The doctor held her stance. The party took place last year. Throughout the last twelve months he had struggled with severe depression, which led to his supposed breakdown. He could expect police to come by and question him. And question him they did; after the doctor finished tending to him, two officers entered the room. Most of their inquiries Josh couldn't answer. He didn't want to cause trouble, so he admitted to the underage drinking at the party - _last year's_ party. He had no idea what happened at the lodge, or why his friends thought he was dead at one point, or what happened to Hannah and Beth, or how the sanatorium caught fire, or why Sam told them to check the mines.

When they finished, the shorter cop's focus shifted from Josh to Doctor Velasquez. "We'll have to come back when he's recovered," he said. His tone was cold and skeptical. "Hopefully your memory will return, mister Washington." And with that they were gone. The exchange left a twisted ache of anxiety in Josh's stomach. He requested to be alone for a while. He needed time. He was still processing the loss of his sisters. The last time he spoke to either of them was before the alcohol blurred his thoughts. To think that was a year ago…

It was almost nine o'clock when his parents arrived. Both were frazzled, and for once in his life, his father ignored his cell phone when it buzzed from his pocket. They looked older than Josh remembered, even if only twelve months had passed; his father's face was wrinkled with frown lines and there were flecks of gray in his hair. His mother had covered the dark circles under her eyes with makeup. She hugged him and cried the hardest Josh had ever seen. If she was this shaken, then all the stories must have been true.

"Mom, I- I'm sorry. I don't know what…"

"Don't you worry about a thing, honey. All you have to do is get better. Everyone is safe. That's all that matters."

No comfort was to be found in those words. How could he get better if he didn't know what happened in the first place? And by everyone, she wasn't including Hannah and Beth. For the first time since he woke up, Josh took this chance to weep. His tears soaked the shoulder of Melinda's blouse. He could feel his father's hand on his back rubbing soothing circles. They had not been this close to him in years - even the ones he could recall - and contributed to his gloom.

They stayed the night with him. At the request of his parents, he was transferred to a California hospital late the next morning so he could be closer to home. His friends gathered to see him off. They were probably working on travel plans of their own. It was an underwhelming experience. They all looked as exhausted as he felt, and for some reason, they were distant. Almost cautious. As if they should be the ones with wavering trust. He couldn't shake the feeling they were hiding something.


	2. TWO

"You can't be serious," Sam huffed. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "After all the shit he's been through, you think we should _hide_ it from him? Don't you think that'll piss him off? He'll find out. It's all over the news."

"I know, I know… but we can't dump everything on him at once either," reasoned Chris. "Then he'll get upset and stop talking to us. He'll resent us _again,_ then who knows what'll happen. It won't be as overwhelming if his memory comes back. He'll know we were just trying to help. It's the lesser of two evils. I hate it just as much as you do."

Emily rolled her eyes and groaned. "Can we stop acting like he's innocent?"

Chris shot her a pointed look. While it was true that Josh had done terrible things, it was also their fault. They indirectly caused his sisters' deaths, they didn't reach out to him afterwards, they let him alienate himself. They did nothing while fury and helplessness festered in their friend like poison. That could not happen a second time. Even if no one else was on board, Chris would ease Josh's suffering as much as possible. Josh might be annoyed for a while afterwards, but at least he would know their intentions were _good_. "He's not faking, Em. If you wanna talk to him then I can't stop you. Just thought this would be easier for all of us," he concluded.

Matt hesitantly raised his hand and said, "It sucks but I agree." He glanced at Emily as if waiting for her to argue. Miraculously, she did not. All she did was pout.

"Speaking of the news," Mike cut in, "anyone watched it recently? You think they'll search other parts of the property? 'Cause if they find that creepy shit you and Ash talked about in the shed…"

Ashley's face went pale at the memory. "The saw and that fake body cut in half! The police will freak out!" she exclaimed, turning to Chris. She was right - once they found that little horror scene, it would be over. Chris thought for a moment. There was no way they could save Josh from that evidence. The best they could do was to emphasize he had been skipping out on his medication. He nodded slowly.

"Yeah. It's pretty fucked up."

Shortly after that, the group adjourned from their meeting at Sam's hospital room. They had gathered to check on her after her transfer to Burbank, California. She had caught hypothermia after treading through freezing waters, and hearing in her right ear had declined for a while though it was starting to come back. Chris promised to text her later as he left. Right now he had a lunch date. He needed to talk to Josh alone in an environment that wasn't so cold and stiff. Though he was keeping secrets, he needed to let his friend know he wasn't alone. That was what got them into this mess.

* * *

At half past noon he entered a Mexican restaurant with Josh by his side. The poor guy looked drained of energy. Chris put a hand gently on his shoulder and led him to a table. His aura of exhaustion drew a few concerned looks from people nearby. While they sat, Chris tried to hold his attention by talking.

"Thanks for coming, bro. I know you're probably not feeling up to it. I just thought maybe it's better for you to be with friends than sitting alone at home."

Josh stared down at the menu after a waiter dropped it off, requesting only a water to drink. Chris did the same. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Did your parents tell you about what happened?" he asked. "About… last year, I mean."

"They told me that Sam called them in the middle of the night. She said Hannah ran outside 'cause she was upset about something, Beth went to look for her, and neither of them came back." Josh recounted his parents' story in a quiet, sullen tone. "Doesn't make any fucking sense. She's… she was smart. She knew better than to go out in a storm. Something _bad_ must have happened. I think…" He drew in a deep breath and flipped through the menu pages. "...I think the others are hiding stuff from me. From us. You were passed out too, right? Did they tell you why Hannah left?"

Chris put on his best poker face and shook his head. "No one knows. We checked everywhere and couldn't find anything. It's a mystery. Bothers us every day… I'm sorry."

Josh's grief presented itself as a lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow, the sound coming out loud and awkward from across the table. The plastic-covered page in his hand trembled. "Th-There could've been evidence in the lodge. Now we'll never… And it's my fault and I-I don't even know what I did…"

"Hey. Look at me, man," Chris said. Josh obeyed, his eyes glistening with tears. "The things that happened at Blackwood weren't because of _you,_ alright? It was depression taking over. The months leading up to it, we weren't there for you like we should've been. Don't blame yourself."

Wiping the moisture from his eyes with his sleeve, Josh sniffled and asked, "Chris… What did I do? Everyone else looks at me like I'm crazy. Ashley wouldn't even talk to me at the hospital."

"They'll get over it." That was the biggest lie of all. "I'm not telling you because I don't want you to dwell on it. We're here to drown your sorrows in enchiladas, 'kay?"

"I was questioned by police officers. They acted like I was _faking_ amnesia. Sam got sick. Mike's missing two fingers. Jess jumps every time a door opens. I got stabbed in the arm and hit my head. Of course I'm gonna dwell on it," Josh argued. " _I_ set the lodge on fire, didn't I?"

"No. You didn't," Chris replied firmly. "I swear to god, there was no logical explanation for the fire."

It was painfully obvious that Josh didn't believe him, yet it was the best Chris could do to avoid further inquiries. Lunch was uncomfortable after that; he would try to make small talk and Josh would give two-word responses or ignore him altogether. As he said earlier, Josh would be angry for a while, but in the end this was still the best option. After they finished eating - or in Josh's case, finished pushing food around his plate - Chris drove his sulking friend home. He said goodbye as Josh got out of the car and tried not to take it personally when he slammed the passenger door a bit too hard.


	3. THREE

The first thing Josh remembered was a feeling of isolation. It came to him after he got home from lunch with Chris. Chris, who was supposed to be his best friend, who refused to tell him what happened at Blackwood Pines. His reason was that he didn't want Josh to worry; Josh was beginning to think maybe it was because Chris didn't trust him. This encompassing loneliness was familiar. It grew each time he entered another room of his house. There was no laughter or bickering from his sisters upstairs. His parents were at work, struggling to maintain their image after their son supposedly burned down a mountain lodge. As soon as they confirmed he was "okay," it was back to business. His heart ached and he couldn't put his doubts to rest. He paced back and forth down a hallway, wringing his hands while trying to overcome an extreme case of déjà vu. Eventually he decided to watch the news. It might tell him what his friends wouldn't. Josh climbed the stairs to his bedroom, mentally prepared himself for what he might see, and turned on the television.

The first news station he could find filled the screen with a frontal view of the lodge at Blackwood Pines, its frame charred and crumbling. Some areas had completely caved in. Firefighters were grouped around it; a few of them were carrying something out of what used to be the great room. They stood with their backs to the camera, blocking the object from view. "...where twin sisters Beth and Hannah Washington, daughters of movie mogul Bob Washington, disappeared last February. The family faces yet another tragedy after their winter getaway caught fire two days ago. Sources say that the last remaining Washington child, Joshua, was hosting a gathering in his sisters' memory. The Blackwood County Park Ranger Service received a distress call from the nearby fire tower at two twenty-one A.M. but could not send help until the blizzard calmed five hours later. The message was unclear, but hints toward a, quote, ' _maniac'_ terrorizing Joshua and his friends. When the police arrived at dawn, the lodge had already caught fire and its guests were outside, battered and bruised. The flames have recently been put out. There are teams working on the Blackwood Pines Sanatorium several miles away, which had also ignited."

In the background, the firefighters draped a sheet over whatever they had retrieved from the cabin. They dispersed, and for that brief second Josh realized with horror that it was a corpse. His heart sank to his stomach. All his friends were safe at home. Who could that be? They were too tall for the sheet to cover them entirely; a hand poked out almost as pale as the snow it rested on.

It was elongated, skeletal. Unnatural. It sent a shiver down his spine. Scenes like this did not bother him. Being a scary movie fanatic, Josh was used to dead bodies on television. _Whoever_ that was filled him with such dread that he had to turn off the television.

His mother left her cell phone on the kitchen counter in case of emergencies; Josh's phone was lost on the mountain somewhere. He went to pick it up and typed out a message to Sam - since Chris was no help earlier.

[TO: Samantha Giddings]  
It's josh. Was anyone else at the party?

Her response took a few minutes.

[FROM: Samantha Giddings]  
Hey J. How are ya? It was just us…

[TO: Samantha Giddings]  
Then who tf is this they just got out the lodge on the news

[FROM: Samantha Giddings]  
What!?

[TO: Samantha Giddings]  
Someone is DEAD sam. They're talking about a maniac? And the sanatorium? Chris wont tell me anything

[FROM: Samantha Giddings]

You didn't do those things. I want to tell you more, but I've decided to trust Chris for now. It will all come back to you. I'm really sorry.

[TO: Samantha Giddings]  
WTF

Sam was never this standoffish. It had to be true; he had done something horrible. For all he knew, that corpse could have been his doing. He needed more answers. Before it drove him crazy. He wished Beth was here to jump to his defense even when she had no idea what the problem was. He wished Hannah could give him a comprehensive list of reasons why he should or should not trust his friends. While he trudged upstairs to his room, Josh imagined them walking beside him, bickering over whether or not they should send out an angry group text. Walking past their bedrooms, their imagined voices became so clear he had to double-check that they weren't truly there.

Josh stopped at his room. He stood in the threshold and scanned over every detail. In the past, his mother would nag him to clean it. Now it seemed to have fallen into disarray - more so than usual. Clothes were strewn carelessly on the floor. The writing desk where he kept his laptop was littered with papers. A bottle of phenelzine sat on the corner, only a few pills left. He must have gotten angry at some point; his _Psycho_ poster was torn off the wall, crumpled in the small trash can by his dresser.

Cleaning up would keep him occupied. If his friends wouldn't explain anything (what a bunch of assholes), he would have to wait for his memories to return. Josh walked to the desk and collected the loose papers in a stack. The handwriting on every sheet was his, though it was almost impossible to read. He opened a drawer, thinking he might decipher them later.

Inside that drawer was an unmarked marble notebook. It wouldn't have caught his attention if not for the fact that it was beat up, with sticky notes and extra sheets tucked in between its pages. Josh wasn't exactly neat, but his notes from school were never so disorganized. He picked it up and tucked the stack of papers into the drawer. Despite the foreboding aura, Josh flipped open the notebook.

* * *

Emily didn't believe in luck. Growing up, she was taught that success came from hard work. If one put forth enough effort, they would have a good life. She studied until her mind was fried so that someday in the future she could get a decent job, buy nice things, and marry a guy who gave her too much attention. It was what her parents did. They picked on each other occasionally but they were comfortable. That was because they poured their hearts into everything.

She had failed in that aspect. She had not devoted herself entirely to Matthew Taylor, the one person who saw her as more than the honor student playing hard to get. She got hung up on Mike, treated her boyfriend like shit, and almost paid for it on the mountain. Emily had to acknowledge it was luck that kept Matt by her side today.

The rich scent of soy sauce wafted from the stove where he was making stir fry. His puppy-dog brown eyes watched the pan with utmost concentration. Ever since they returned from Blackwood, he would act like this, like he wasn't just as scarred as the rest of them. It had to be a coping mechanism. He must have thought that if he could act mostly normal, they could too. Emily admired him greatly, but she also hated it. She wished he would stop pretending it never happened. If he would just get mad at her - acknowledge her infidelity, even - she wouldn't have to worry so much.

Emily rubbed his arm and leaned her chin on his shoulder. The corner of his lips curled upward. His expression looked hollow. "Matt?" she asked while he continued to monitor the pan. He hummed.

"Love you," she said. Again he hummed. A short, noncommittal sound, as if he wasn't actually listening. Emily frowned and looked up at him. "Matt, come on. I love you."

"Love you too, Em."

"I love you and _only_ you."

Those beautiful puppy eyes darted sideways to meet hers for a second. Then they went back to the stir fry. Matt remained silent. His fake smile vanished.

"I was being a bitch the other day. Not the good kind of bitch. I was being the awful kind. And the thing with Mike-"

"Can we not do this? I… don't feel like getting it right now. I'll get over it."

"No," persisted Emily, "I don't want you to get over it. Like, not immediately. You have a right to be pissed. You're _supposed_ to be. I had this weird thing for Mike since he was my first major boyfriend, but that's not cool. Me and him are done. All I should care about is you and I. That's how it's gonna be from now on."

Matt heaved out a sigh. "If you're serious about that, great."

"That's it? You're not curious if we've, like, been talking behind your back, or hooking up in secret..."

"What do you _want,_ Em?" Finally, he showed a sincere reaction. He let go of the pan's handle and turned to face Emily, throwing one arm out to the side. "You want me to kick his ass? Is that it? Are you pitting us against each other for entertainment? You like watching us fight over you? Yes, I was pissed about whatever the hell you were doing back then. I wouldn't have cared if you talked to him as a friend. But you were sneaky about it, so I _did_ think you were cheating. None of that matters anymore though."

Emily glowered, her nose scrunching in disbelief. "It doesn't matter?" she repeated.

"Babe. We fought for our lives against wendigos in mines that could've caved in on us. There are things in this world that are totally out of our control. We don't know if we'll live to see tomorrow, or even the next five minutes. I'd rather spend what I have left being happy than miserable. So yeah, I was mad about the Mike thing… then you apologized. And I still want to be with you. So it doesn't matter," Matt concluded. His expression softened as he lifted a hand to Emily's chin. He kissed her tenderly, like he hadn't revealed that inside he was terrified.

Which was what Emily had been searching for: Matt's problem. Now that she knew it, they could work on a solution. She wouldn't fail Matt ever again. She reached for his hands and intertwined their fingers. When she parted from the kiss she smiled, albeit glumly. "That's what I wanted. For you to be real with me. You can't keep it bottled up. That's what got us into this mess."

Matt pursed his lips and replied solemnly, "I know. Sorry. I'll work on it."

"You passed step one. Step two: stop burning our lunch."


End file.
